


Perfect

by ABrighterDarkness



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, One Shot, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 20:21:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17925686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABrighterDarkness/pseuds/ABrighterDarkness
Summary: To the outside world, she was a strong, unstoppable force. A force of nature. But here, in their home, he saw how fragile she was and how those uttered insults and judgments affected her. He was honored that he was allowed to see this side of such a strong woman and still amazed that she had even given him the chance to get to that point.





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> So this was a plot bunny that hit me out of the blue and is inspired by the song "Fuckin' Perfect" by Pink. Easily one of my favorite songs by my absolute favorite artist. This is also a fairly near and dear one because I feel like I've had several very similar conversations with my partner.
> 
> Anyway, I hope that you enjoy this lovely little one-shot!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm just playing with what was already there!
> 
> Always,  
> ABD

 

Neville understood why a tree was used to symbolize life.  Despite the obvious differences, people and plants were very much alike.  Each plant needed a specific environment to truly thrive.  Most could manage alright with less than perfect and a few would stubbornly cling to life despite the worst.  Some could even be entirely self-sufficient.  But all of them grew stronger and healthier when offered genuine care.  Perhaps this unique understanding of life offered a different perspective of those around him.  Especially those closest to him.

 

He leaned quietly against the door frame leading to the bathroom, arms crossed in front of him, to watch the witch in front of him prepare for their evening out and smiled, albeit a little sadly.  She truly had no idea how utterly beautiful she was.  To the outside world, she was a strong, unstoppable force.  A force of nature.  But here, in their home, he saw how fragile she was and how those uttered insults and judgments affected her.  He was honored that he was allowed to see this side of such a strong woman and still amazed that she had even given him the chance to get to that point.  He just wished that she could see what he did.

 

An angry, tearful growl drew his eyes to her reflection in the mirror in time to see the witch angrily throw the broken hair tie across the small room and sink forward, her hands braced against the counter and head bowed.  He pushed himself away from the door frame and approached his large hands gently turning her body to wrap her into a hug, pressing a kiss into the top of her head.

 

"I'm sorry," she whispered against his chest.

 

"You've got nothing to be sorry for," he promised.

 

"I hate it."

 

"You hate what?" he asked.

 

"I hate seeing myself.  I hate that I feel so awful about myself.  I hate that I always feel so wretched that you're stuck with me.  More than any of it, I _hate_ that it affects me this much," she answered, her voice thick with the emotion of her confession.

 

He held in a sad sigh, not wanting to give the witch in his arms the wrong impression.  Carefully, he gripped her shoulders and turned her back around to face the mirror, "Tell me what you see."

 

"Neville…"

 

"Please?"

 

The witch slumped slightly before raising her eyes to the mirror.  After a moment of studying herself and all her flaws, she grimaced, "Hair.  So much ridiculous and impossible hair."

 

"What else," he prompted.

 

"My skin is awful," she sighed. "It's all dull and plain.  Dull hair, dull eyes.  My scars.  I'm too boney. I'm just…I'm just a permanent mess.  Can we stop, please?  I know it all already, I really don't need it pointed out, Neville."

 

"Do you know what _I_ see?" He asked softly.

 

"The same mess that I see?"

 

"No, not quite," Neville answered.  He watched their reflection and brought his left hand up to play with one of her curls that framed her face.  "Your hair is amazing.  Do you realize how incredibly soft it is?  Or how many times I've caught myself staring because this curl right here has broken free of whatever tie you've had it that day and…I can't even explain it properly but it then you look up and catch me staring and you blush so very beautifully."

 

His hand dropped from her hair to wrap over her chest and hold onto the opposite shoulder, pulling her back against him.  "Your eyes are something amazing to watch, Hermione.  When you laugh and your truly happy or your sad or angry.  Your eyes are so very expressionate.  When you smile at me, _Merlin_ , Hermione.  You don't even know how beautiful you are."

 

Neville pressed a kiss to the junction of her neck and shoulder, smiling slightly at the quiet sigh that escaped her.  "Your skin?  It's perfect.  Even when you've just woken up.  Even after you've cried or when you blush.  Those products that you insist on using…love, they just hide you."

 

With careful hands, he spun her back around resting his hands at her slim waist and stepped her backward until the countertop pressed into the back of her thighs.  Neville lowered his head until his lips hovered teasingly over hers. "I don't care what anyone else says.  You are gorgeous and I'll happily spend the rest of our lives showing you and telling you and one day, you're going to believe me."

 

She gave him a forced smile, Neville knew that meant she didn't believe him but was attempting to humor him anyway.  Without warning, he scooped her up into his arms, urging her to wrap her long legs around his waist.  That was a feeling he was sure that he'd never tire of.  He carried her out of the bathroom and deposited her gently onto their bed before climbing up to lay down on his side next to her.  His hand moved over her from shoulder to hip and then back again as he studied her face.  On the following down stroke, his hand diverted course and took her left hand, his fingers toying with the heirloom ring settled onto her third finger.

 

After a few moments of comfortable silence between them, she withdrew her hand from his and touched his face affectionately before slipping it behind his ear and pulling his head towards her.  The kiss was gentle and he rested his hand onto her hip, pulling her closer to him.  When her tongue met his, Neville felt his breath leave him, as it always did.  Eventually, Neville broke the kiss and pulled her to sit up with him and carefully pulled her shirt over her head, discarding it over the side of the bed before returning her to lay on her back.

 

He took his time worshiping his witch.  His hand stroked her soft skin while lips and tongue kissed and tasted it.  It was no time before he completely divested her of her remaining clothing and his own.  Neville settled back onto his heels with her bare legs parted on either side of him.  His hands stroked from her feet behind him, over her legs, thighs, and hips.  He smoothed over her stomach and sides.  The witch beneath him watched the movement, her breathing heavy.  He leaned over her body to kiss her as a small hand wrapped around him.

 

It was slow and sensual.  It was intense and passionate.  It was somehow always just what they needed it to be.  Neither of them had the beginnings to grow the way they ought to have in the perfect environment.  But just like the variety of salvaged and saved plants he had tended to over the years, they had taken to tending to one another.  When he retreated into the fumbling boy he still felt himself to be, she always seemed to know exactly what he needed.  When she doubted herself, when she was ready to crumble under the strain of her responsibilities, he did everything he could to show her exactly how wonderful she truly was.

 

And so he did.

 

After, they laid wrapped around one another, dinner reservations long forgotten.  His hands continued to roam her body in soothing strokes.

 

"You are so beautiful, Hermione," he whispered against her hair as his hands ghosted over her torso appreciatively.  "You're perfect."

 

"Hardly perfect," she giggled.

 

"You are to me," he replied, simply.

 

She smiled, a true one unlike the forced one from earlier, "You make me want to believe you.  Even if I can't see it."

 

Neville kissed her gently, "One day you will."


End file.
